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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29864268">Sin City</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TessAlyn/pseuds/TessAlyn'>TessAlyn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Boy Castiel (Supernatural), Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Creature Castiel (Supernatural), Dean/Cas Reverse Bang, Dom Castiel/Sub Dean Winchester, Dom/sub Play, Dubious Consent, Hunter Dean Winchester, M/M, References to Child Murder (Non Explicit), Spanking, Team Dean Winchester's Red Ass, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:08:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,090</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29864268</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TessAlyn/pseuds/TessAlyn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's <em>intoxicating.</em> It's sharp, aching guilt layered over paranoia. It's the sound of knuckles hitting flesh and the coppery taste of blood. It's adrenaline mixed with slowly simmering rage. It's the most delicious aroma he's ever encountered. And it's coming from a man who looks every inch the fresh-faced college student. It's an enigma Castiel simply must unravel. And hopefully get a taste of whatever lies within.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>222</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Dean/Cas Reverse Bang 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sin City</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Welcome to my first DeanCas Reverse Bang fic! For this challenge I was paired with the amazingly talented <a href="https://mobile.twitter.com/ashirotyan">ashirotyan</a>, who created the artwork and prompt that inspired this dark and steamy tale. This was a wonderful stretch for my creative muscles and I'm very proud of the result. I hope you all enjoy reading it and looking at the absolutely gorgeous art!</p><p>About the Dubious Consent tag: It's hard to explain why it's there without giving away the plot, so if you are concerned about it, please see the end notes for details.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Los Angeles, California, 11:17 PM </em>
</p><p>Nobody in here smells particularly appetizing tonight.</p><p>Castiel throws back another shot and slams the glass back down on the sticky bartop. Usually he can find a decent meal in places like this, but not today. Not for the past few weeks, actually. And he's pretty sure he knows the reason.</p><p>Demons. Nearly four million souls in this city and they <em> still </em> choose to hunt on his turf. Simpering, conniving little black-eyed bottom-feeders, always trying to make a deal, always trying to curry favor with Lucifer. They're pathetic, and they're really starting to piss him off.</p><p>Like all creatures who live in the human world, Castiel understands the supernatural order of things, and its first, most important rule is <em> don't attract attention. </em>If the aforementioned demon bothered to read any of the warning sigils Castiel's put up around the neighborhood, they would already know that, but apparently this particular piece of hellspawn didn't get the memo. Now they're stealing, purely for the sake of profit, what Castiel needs to survive.</p><p>He's just about to settle his tab and try somewhere else (strip club, maybe) when the door to the bar creaks open. Automatically Castiel glances up, and when he sees the new arrival, everything around him seems to slow down and fade away into the background.</p><p>The most beautiful man in the world is standing in the doorway. He's young, maybe early twenties, clad in a leather jacket and tight-fitting jeans, a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. Dirty blond hair, perfect face, and a mouth made for all sorts of sinful pleasures.</p><p>Castiel quickly lowers his gaze. The last thing he wants is to scare this vision away. He pretends to be very interested in his glass as the young man approaches the bar, but it becomes much harder to feign disinterest when he catches a whiff of the man's scent.</p><p>It's <em> intoxicating. </em> It's sharp, aching guilt layered over paranoia. It's the sound of knuckles hitting flesh and the coppery taste of blood. It's adrenaline mixed with slowly simmering rage. It's the most delicious aroma he's ever encountered. And it's coming from a man who looks every inch the fresh-faced college student.</p><p>It's an enigma Castiel simply must unravel. And hopefully get a taste of whatever lies within.</p>
<hr/><p>Dean doesn’t expect this place to have many answers, but it's where the werewolf was rumored to be last seen, so it would be stupid not to check it out. He notes the number of patrons (three at the bar, one at the jukebox, two playing pool) and exits (three if you count the window.) The bartender is a Latino guy with a scraggly beard who seems more interested in his phone than his customers.</p><p>Dean sits down on a rickety barstool and taps his knuckles against the wood. The bartender looks up. "¿Qué quieres?" he grunts, clearly peeved at being interrupted from playing Candy Crush or whatever the fuck.</p><p>"Whisky por favor," Dean says. Years of investigating have taught him that it pays to know some of the local lingo. Even if your pronunciation is shit, most people still give you points for trying. </p><p>Sure enough, the bartender nods and reaches for a bottle of Jack, looking slightly less annoyed. Dean half-expects to get carded, but this guy doesn't seem to give a fuck how old he is. He pours a generous amount into a shot glass and slides it across the bar.</p><p>"Noche lenta?" Dean asks, taking a sip. <em> Slow night? </em></p><p>The bartender shrugs. "Más o menos." <em> More or less. </em></p><p>Dean nods and continues sipping. The trick with these conversations is not to push too fast. Establish rapport, but don't draw too much attention to yourself. Make them come to you.</p><p>He pulls out his phone and scrolls through his texts. The most recent one is from Sam, asking if he's coming home for the weekend. <em> Dad's got tickets to the game on Saturday night. Be great if you could be there. </em></p><p>Guilt twists in Dean's stomach. He hates lying to his family, but no one can know how he really spends his weekends. He types out a reply: <em> sorry bud, wish I could but my workload is super heavy right now. I really need to buckle down and study. Maybe next weekend. </em> He pockets his phone and stares down at the scarred and pitted bartop. This is the third time he's turned down Sam this month and he's running out of excuses. If he could just <em> catch </em>this goddamn thing...</p><p>"¿Otro?" the bartender asks, nodding at his empty glass.</p><p>"Si." Dean sits back on the barstool and watches him pour another shot. "Do you own this bar?" he asks after a pause, hoping the guy won't mind if he switches to English. He doesn't know enough Spanish to ask all the questions he needs to. Maybe one day.</p><p>"Si," the bartender answers, puffing out his chest. "I bought it three years ago. Mi esposa, she said, 'Manuel, you're crazy, nobody gonna come to a little cantina when there's that big club down the street.' But I make good money. People come here if they want a quiet place to relax, you know?"</p><p>Dean nods. "Yeah, this is definitely more my speed. I hate that techno crap. You can't even talk to people, it's so loud."</p><p>Manuel spreads his hands. "That's what I'm saying. Lotta people come in here like, 'Man, I was just in that club, and now I can't hear shit.'"</p><p>Dean grins. "El silencio es oro, huh?"</p><p>Manuel grins back. "Bastante bueno para un gringo." <em> Pretty good for a gringo. </em></p><p>Dean shrugs. "Not as good as I'd like."</p><p>"You ever wanna practice, you come here, okay?"</p><p>"You got it." He downs the rest of his shot as Manuel turns away to check on the other patrons. Once the man's back is turned, Dean takes a closer look at the decor.</p><p>He's not surprised to see a small shrine on the back counter— this is a predominantly Latino neighborhood and lots of people worship saints— but he <em> is </em>a little surprised that it's for Santa Muerte. Dean's no expert, but he does know that people typically ask Saint Death for protection against violence and witchcraft. He stares at the little skeleton clad in a white robe, black candles and prayer beads surrounding her. What does Manuel need protection from?</p><p>As he's staring at the statue, the hair on the back of Dean's neck suddenly prickles. Someone's watching him. Cautiously, he turns his head and scans the room. Nothing seems to have changed. The pool game's still going, and Jukebox Guy is now passed out at a table in the far corner. Dean's gaze slowly drifts to the other end of the bar. Two middle-aged dudes are chatting with Manuel in rapid-fire Spanish, and next to them, sitting directly in Dean's line of sight…</p><p>His breath catches as he looks into a pair of intense blue eyes. The man is dressed in black leather from head to toe, his dark hair is fucked up in the best possible way, and he's staring at Dean like he wants to eat him, tracing his lower lip with one long, elegant finger.</p><p>Dean drops his gaze, his face suddenly hot. <em> What the fuck? </em> He gets ogled in bars all the time and not once has he <em> ever </em>blushed like a damn schoolgirl. With an effort, he shakes off the feeling. He's here to do a job, not eye-fuck strangers. No matter how hot they are.</p><p>Manuel returns to Dean's side of the bar. "¿Uno más?" he asks. </p><p>"Sure, why not." Dean watches Manuel pour another shot, then decides it's time to get down to business. "So," he says, schooling his face into an appropriately serious expression, "did you hear about that girl they found near Hansen Dam?"</p><p>Manuel's eyes narrow. "Everybody heard about it," he says. "It was all over the news."</p><p>"I know, I saw." Dean tries to ignore Blue Eyes, who's still watching him. "I just can't get it out of my head. Who the fuck would do something like that?"</p><p>The bartender carefully wipes his hands off with a towel. "I don't know, man. People do a lotta crazy shit."</p><p>"Yeah, but…" Dean shakes his head. "Ripping someone's heart out… that's a whole other level of crazy."</p><p>Manuel places both palms flat on the counter and leans close to Dean. "I don't want you talking about that shit in here, man," he says, face hard. "It's bad for business and I don't want to scare my customers. ¿Comprendes?"</p><p>Damn it. He pushed too fast. "Si," Dean mumbles. "Lo siento."</p><p>That seems to satisfy Manuel. He goes back to the two other guys and resumes their conversation, which is too fast for Dean to follow. He glares down into the shot glass. Now he's gotta wait around here until closing time, see if Manuel gets more chatty once his customers aren't around.</p><p>Or maybe not. Blue Eyes is still staring at him with that hungry look. He's probably going to make a move soon, and Dean really can't afford to get distracted right now.</p><p>After a moment's consideration, Dean looks the stranger right in the eyes and throws him a bitchface worthy of Sam, but the man just smirks and raises his glass as if he's making a damn toast. Fuck. Maybe <em> he's </em>the werewolf. Or something just as nasty. L.A.'s a goddamn mecca for monsters and creepy crawlies.</p><p>Fuck this. Dean rises from his seat, throws a few bills onto the counter, and walks out the door. He'll come back later when the coast is clear.</p>
<hr/><p>Castiel wastes no time. As soon as the beautiful boy gets up and leaves, he quickly settles his tab with Manuel and slips out the back door, into the alley where his motorcycle is parked. He throws a leg over the seat and starts her up, praying that his quarry hasn't gone too far.</p><p>He sniffs the air, sifting through layers of city smells— burning exhaust fumes, frying meat from the restaurant next door, rotting garbage, traces of piss and vomit. <em> There. </em>A thin ribbon of that delectable scent flickers past his nose. The boy is nearby, maybe twenty yards away.</p><p>Castiel trundles slowly down the narrow alley, following the scent, which is growing stronger every second. He squints through the smog and sees a familiar profile striding along the sidewalk, hands shoved in his pockets, messenger bag slapping against his hip. <em> Oh, yes. Come to me, my sweet. </em></p><p>As if sensing that he's being followed, the boy starts walking faster. Castiel sees his hand slip out of his pocket and drift toward the waistband of his jeans. Probably going for a weapon. Castiel almost smiles. Hunters always think that a few silver bullets, rock salt, and a bottle of holy water are enough to make them invincible.</p><p>He pulls up alongside the curb, easily keeping pace with his target, who's keeping his eyes focused straight ahead. Castiel lets a beat go by, and then plays his first card.</p><p>"I think we're looking for the same thing," he says, speaking loudly over the bike's rumble.</p><p>"We're definitely not." The young man keeps walking.</p><p>"I heard you inside, asking questions," Castiel continues. “From the sound of things, you’re looking for a werewolf.”</p><p>That gets his attention. The beautiful boy stops and turns to face Castiel, and <em> oh, </em> those full lips and long lashes look even more gorgeous in shadow. The sweetness of his scent is almost overwhelming at such close range. Castiel feels his mouth watering.</p><p>"You're a hunter?" the boy asks him.</p><p>Castiel smiles. "I suppose you could say that. Why don't we go someplace and talk?"</p><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="center">
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</div><hr/><p>The boy's name is Dean, and he's been tracking the wolf for nearly a month. That's all Castiel is able to get out of him as they wait in line at the tamale stand. Castiel doesn't normally eat human food— it all tastes like ash to him— but sometimes it's necessary to keep up appearances. And with Dean's sweet scent filling his nostrils, he's able to eat all of his tamales without gagging or making a face.</p><p>"So," Dean says, once they've disposed of their empty plates and foil wrappers. "Tell what you know about this wolf."</p><p>Castiel shifts on the bench so he's facing Dean. "So impatient," he says with a teasing grin.</p><p>Dean doesn't smile. "You'd be impatient too, if you'd been tracking this bastard for a month and had nothing to show for it."</p><p>Castiel props his chin on his hand and tilts his head. "From what I've observed, this particular wolf likes to hunt alone."</p><p>"No pack? That's unusual." Dean frowns. "You think he got kicked out?"</p><p>"It's possible." Castiel can't stop staring at Dean's mouth. It's mesmerizing. "If a pack alpha steps down or is killed, there's usually a battle for dominance among the other members. If this wolf lost the fight for top dog, he might have decided to hunt solo for a while."</p><p>"That makes sense, actually." Dean nods slowly. "All his victims have either been really young or really old, which could mean he's not strong enough to take down an adult yet. Maybe he got turned pretty recently, or maybe he's not used to hunting alone." His face hardens. "Or maybe he's a sick fuck who just <em> likes </em> killing kids and little old ladies."</p><p>Castiel hums in agreement, resisting the urge to lay his arm across the back of the bench so he can wrap Dean in a pseudo-embrace. It's taking all his self-control not to straddle the man's lap and start tongue-fucking his mouth. <em> Patience. The pursuit is half the pleasure.  </em></p><p>"Last kill was three days ago," Dean says. "He's gotta be getting pretty hungry."</p><p>"Yes," Castiel says. "Very."</p><p>Dean pulls a tattered map of L.A. out of his inner jacket pocket. It's folded over to the northwest section of the city, specific areas circled in black Sharpie, and Dean points to each circle as he talks. "First victim was found in a dumpster just off the corner of San Fernando and Montague. Second was near Osbourne and Norris. Those two boys who went missing were last seen at a bodega on Glenoaks and Gain. And they found the girl's body at a playground just two blocks from there. See a pattern yet?"</p><p>"They're all near Hansen Dam," Castiel says.</p><p>"Bingo. Water park's a great place to scope out victims, especially if he's targeting kids now." Dean's lip curls. "Sooner I catch this son of a bitch, the happier I'll be." </p><p>Castiel leans forward, deliberately pressing his shoulder into Dean's. "I believe this line" —he drags a fingertip across the map's surface— "represents a service road that runs from the power station up to the water park. If he has a lair, it will likely be located somewhere along that road. Especially if it's in a wooded area."</p><p>"Sweet." Dean folds up the map and stands up. "Let's go."</p>
<hr/><p>This Castiel dude is pretty intense. He keeps looking at Dean like he's a particularly succulent piece of meat, which makes Dean equal parts pissed off and turned on. But he also seems genuinely invested in catching this fucker, so Dean's not going to look a gift hunter in the mouth.</p><p>There's an eight-foot metal fence blocking the entrance to the service road, because nothing in Dean's life is fucking simple. Castiel keeps watch as he starts cutting a hole in the mesh, although he seems far more focused on Dean than on their surroundings.</p><p>"How long have you been hunting?" he asks as Dean wrestles with the wire cutters, which are cheap and flimsy and probably better suited for snipping through pipe cleaners rather than industrial grade steel.</p><p>"A few years," Dean answers. "You?"</p><p>"Longer than that." Castiel squats down next to him. "Would you like some assistance?"</p><p><em> Yeah, you can assist with sucking my brains out through my dick. </em>"I've got it," Dean says aloud, harsher than intended. "You just keep an eye out, all right?"</p><p>"Very well," Castiel answers, sounding amused. He rises to his feet and leans against the fence, moonlight casting his face in shadow.</p><p>Dean works as quickly as he can, cursing himself for not investing in better quality tools. Next time, he's splurging on some damn Black &amp; Decker. Ten minutes later, he's finally ripped out a big enough section for a person to squeeze through.</p><p>Dean gets up, brushes the dirt off himself, and gestures to Castiel with an exaggerated flourish. "After you," he says, putting as much sarcasm into the words as possible.</p><p>Castiel just grins at him and steps through the jagged opening. Dean follows, wondering how he's gotten himself into this mess.</p><p>Castiel's guess about the werewolf's lair turns out to be correct. They find a trail of blood and bone splinters almost immediately, which leads them to a giant cement pipe about a hundred yards from the service road. </p><p>Dean throws a stick into the pipe and they both listen to it clatter and echo, waiting to see if it flushes the creature out. It doesn't.</p><p>"Damn it." Dean shines his flashlight into the gaping maw of the pipe. The concrete sides are stained with blood and other substances he doesn't want to think about. "Think he's out hunting?"</p><p>"Perhaps." Castiel peers past him into the tunnel. "Or he could be further inside. I'll defer to your judgment."</p><p><em> Who the fuck talks like that? </em>Dean steps into the pipe, his feet crunching on gravel and sticks and probably way more disgusting stuff.</p><p>"Ugh." He takes another step, boot squelching in the goo. "Why do monsters always gotta be so messy?"</p><p>Castiel lets out a deep chuckle that sounds like liquid dark chocolate. "Most of them didn't go to finishing school," he answers, and falls into step beside Dean.</p><p>"That implies some of them <em> did </em> go to finishing school," Dean points out.</p><p>"There's a great deal about supernatural creatures that we don't understand." Castiel turns to look at him and grins, wide and white, almost feral. Dean's knees definitely do <em> not </em>wobble.</p><p>"Only thing I need to know is how to kill 'em," he mutters, aiming his flashlight at the ground so if the wolf <em> is </em> in here, it won't see them coming a mile away.</p><p>"Ruthless <em> and </em> practical," Castiel observes. "I respect a man who knows exactly what he wants."</p>
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</div><p>Despite Dean's best efforts, warmth bubbles up inside him from the praise. Damn it. How can this guy get under his skin so easily? They just met an hour ago.</p><p>He clears his throat. "Yeah, well. I've been doing this long enough that it's sort of become routine. Find the thing, kill the thing, save a few lives. Repeat."</p><p>"It sounds as if you don't enjoy it."</p><p>Dean barks out a humorless laugh. "I did at first. Kinda lost its appeal once I started to see just how much bad stuff is really out there."</p><p>"Then why keep doing it?"</p><p>"I don't know," Dean says, shrugging off the question like it's an itchy sweater. "Why does Superman keep coming back to save the world?"</p><p>"I always thought it was because of the pretty girl."</p><p>That gets a chuckle out of Dean. "Nah," he says, "that's just a perk. Superman—" He cuts off abruptly as the sound of a low growl reaches his ears. Quickly he hands the flashlight to Castiel and reaches for his gun.</p><p>"How many bullets do you have?" Castiel murmurs.</p><p>"Six," Dean mutters back, raising the gun. "Should be enough if there's just one."</p><p>A second, slightly lower growl joins the first. Dean's stomach drops.</p><p>"I don't think there's just one," Castiel says dryly, just before a tangle of teeth and claws burst out of the darkness.</p><p>What follows is one of the weirdest fights Dean's ever experienced. Castiel dropped the flashlight when the wolves attacked, so there's a crazy strobe effect going on as the yellowish beam flickers wildly, four pairs of feet kicking it every which way. The narrow, hollow space they're in amplifies every sound tenfold, so it sounds like they're fighting twenty wolves instead of two. Dean's gun gets knocked out of his hand at some point— not that it would do any good at such close range— and he's now desperately trying to reach the silver knife that's stashed inside his jacket, which is hard to do since one of the werewolves has him pinned against the hard cement wall, its breath steaming hot and foul against his face. </p><p>Dean grits his teeth, summons all his remaining strength, and kicks out as hard as he can. His boot connects with something solid and he hears a wet snap, immediately followed by a howl of pain. The wolf staggers backwards, giving Dean just enough time to pull out the knife and sink the blade into the fucker's gut with a satisfying <em> squelch. </em> The creature lets out a long, bloodcurdling scream. Then its body goes limp and slides to the ground.</p><p>Everything goes quiet. The flashlight has stopped spinning and is now pointing at a blank section of curved cement wall. The only sound is Dean's ragged breathing.</p><p>"Cas?" Dean calls. Silence. "Cas!" he yells. No answer.</p><p>Swearing, Dean picks up the flashlight and shines it around. There's a second dead wolf on the ground a few feet away, but no sign of Castiel. "Cas!" he shouts again. "Castiel! Where the fuck are you?"</p><p>He hears a gritting footstep and whirls around, knife raised. Castiel is coming back down the tunnel, hands held up in a gesture of surrender.</p><p>"How did you end up all the way down there?" Dean demands, lowering the knife. "You just decide to take a fucking field trip?"</p><p>"No." Castiel sounds remarkably calm. "After I killed her" —he points down at the second wolf— "I heard more sounds coming from the end of the tunnel, so I went to investigate." He pauses. "Apparently they were guarding a nest."</p><p>"A nest?" Dean's stomach curls unpleasantly. "Of what?"</p><p>"Pups," Castiel answers. "You were right. They were definitely targeting children. Trying to form their own pack, most likely."</p><p>"Jesus." Dean stares at him. "Were they…" </p><p>"They had all been turned," Castiel says matter-of-factly. "There was nothing we could have done."</p><p>Bile rises up in Dean's throat. "How many?" he croaks.</p><p>"Five."</p><p>Five. Five children, stolen away in the dead of night. Five families that will have no closure, will never know what happened to their sons and daughters. Five funerals with empty caskets, five candlelit vigils on street corners.</p><p>"Did you…" Dean swallows. "You took care of 'em?"</p><p>"I did," Castiel answers, still eerily calm. "It's over. You don't have to do anything more."</p><p>"We should…" Dean trails off, wondering how the fuck you move on from something like this. "We should burn the bodies."</p><p>His insides churn at the thought of picking up those tiny, lifeless forms and throwing them on a pyre. Adult victims are one thing, but kids… Dean doesn't know if he has the balls.</p><p>"I'll do it," Castiel says, as though he can sense Dean's state of mind. "I'm the one who made the decision. It's my responsibility."</p><p>Dean should argue. This was his hunt, technically. Cas was just helping out. He needs to square his shoulders and face this head-on like a man. </p><p>Instead, he gives Cas a grateful nod. "Thanks." He gestures at the two adult wolves. "I'll take care of these."</p>
<hr/><p>The air is rank with the smell of Dean's pain, and it's driving Castiel wild. He's long passed the point where he feels any shame for how he satisfies his hunger. It's a need, just like anything else, and he'll do whatever it takes to sate it. If that means pretending to be a hunter and faking sympathy to gain trust, he'll do it happily, as long as he gets to sample the exquisite feast that is Dean's soul. Castiel wants to taste him so badly that it physically aches, but he forces himself to stay calm. Slow and steady wins the race, as they say.</p><p>They stand shoulder to shoulder as they watch the bodies burn. Dean is hunched over like he's protecting himself, hands stuffed in his pockets, jaw set, a hard line between his brows. Castiel sneaks as many glances as he dares, soaking in the perfect shape of Dean's body, the way the firelight softens his already-soft features.</p><p>He can wait. Dean's worth the wait.</p><p>"A demon killed my mom when I was four years old," Dean says abruptly. "Burned our house down." </p><p>Castiel keeps quiet, recognizing the vulnerability of this moment. Dean isn't looking at him. He's staring into the flames, and it's unclear whether he's even fully aware that he's speaking.</p><p>"I swore I would get revenge," Dean continues. "I would hunt down the demon that ruined our lives. My dad and brother, they just wanted to move on, forget it ever happened. But I just couldn't. I couldn't let it go. And then when I finally did find the son of a bitch and gank him, I thought that would be it. Thought I could just go back to living a normal life. But I know what's out there now. Too many people need help. So I pretend. I pretend to be normal. I go to class and call home every week, I go to parties and get drunk like college kids are supposed to. But it's mostly just an act. And tonight... " He swallows. "When you said there were kids, all I could think about was my little brother. Six months old, me carrying him out of the house while Dad tried to rescue Mom. These kids... I could have saved them, if I'd just tried a little harder. Worked a little faster. But I didn't, and it's hard not to feel like it's my fault."</p><p>"Bad things do happen, Dean," Castiel answers. "And in my experience, there's not much we can do about it."</p><p>Dean sniffs and quickly wipes his eyes. "No," he says, "there isn't. We just take wins where we can get 'em, I guess." He takes a long shuddering breath and turns to Castiel. "So. What are your plans after this?"</p><p><em> Careful. No sudden moves. </em> "I'm not sure," Castiel says slowly, doing his best to hide his eagerness. "I always feel unsettled after a hunt is over. It's hard to relax."</p><p>Dean nods. "Yeah, the adrenaline takes a while to wear off." He pauses, and it almost looks like he's hesitating. Castiel holds his breath. "I usually deal with it by getting wasted. Or, you know. The other thing."</p><p>"The other thing?" Castiel tilts his head, pretending not to understand.</p><p>Dean clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably. It's hard to tell in the orange glow of the fire, but Castiel suspects he's blushing. "Getting laid," he clarifies, eyes flicking away from Castiel and then back again.</p><p><em> Oh, my sweet, darling boy. It's almost too easy. </em> </p><p>"I see," Castiel says, meeting Dean's eyes and grinning slightly. "Yes, that can certainly be a stress reliever." He waits a beat, then goes in for the kill. "Is that... something you might be interested in doing tonight?"</p><p>Dean shrugs, giving Castiel a crooked grin of his own. "I'd say there's definitely some<em> one </em> I'm interested in doing tonight." He pauses, and his scent sharpens into an almost unbearably sweet aroma. "But I'm not sure he feels the same way."</p><p>His lips are beautiful in this light; Castiel needs to claim them. He reaches out and takes the hem of Dean's jacket between thumb and forefinger, giving it a gentle tug. Dean moves towards him with no resistance, his eyes wide and luminous as they gaze into Castiel's. </p><p>"He most definitely feels the same way," Castiel says, lifting his other hand and stroking Dean's lower lip with his thumb. "And he'd very much like to take you home tonight."</p>
<hr/><p>Dean doesn't remember much of the ride to Castiel's place. The bike seat is vibrating between his legs, his dick is pressed up against Castiel's broad, warm back, and he can barely remember his own fucking <em> name, </em>let alone where they're going.</p><p>He doesn't really remember the walk up to Castiel's apartment, either. His body is thrumming with lust and adrenaline, and it takes all his self-control not to jump Castiel's bones as they climb two flights of stairs. The way those leather pants hug his round, firm ass should be <em> illegal. </em></p><p>Dean's hard as a rock by the time Castiel unlocks his apartment door and pulls him inside. It only gets worse when Castiel drops his keys with a clatter and slams him up against the wall. He pushes Dean's jacket off his shoulders in one swift motion, then jams a thick, solid thigh between Dean's legs and pins his wrists above his head, nearly lifting him off the floor. Those blue eyes bore into his, piercing and endless and full of raw animal need.</p><p>"I'm going to kiss you within an inch of your life," Castiel growls, and Dean is <em> totally </em>on board with that idea. He nods frantically, licking his lips as he leans forward.</p><p>Cas isn't kidding. He captures Dean's mouth in a bruising kiss, and Dean can't help it— he starts whimpering, almost whining, too turned on to care how fucking needy he sounds. Apparently Cas really likes the noises he's making, because he deepens the kiss even further, forcing his tongue between Dean's lips, licking the roof of his mouth and the insides of his cheeks, like he's trying to map every centimeter. Dean lets his head fall back against the wall, eyes rolling back in his head, reveling in how fucking <em> good </em> it feels to just let go. He starts grinding down against Cas' thigh, moaning at the delicious friction against his cock, and Cas tightens his grip on Dean's wrists, devouring his mouth like a starving man at a banquet.</p><p>Finally, just as Dean starts to worry he might pass out from lack of oxygen, Cas breaks the kiss and moves his head back just slightly. His blue eyes are almost black with lust, his mouth spit-slick and shiny.</p><p>"You taste <em> fantastic," </em> Cas tells him, his voice hoarse and even deeper than usual.</p><p>"So do you." Dean huffs out a laugh, chest and shoulders heaving as he tries to catch his breath. "You're one hell of a kisser."</p><p>"I can do a lot more than that." Cas crouches and scoops Dean up in his arms. "Bedroom?"</p><p>"Hell yes." Dean hooks his ankles behind Cas' back and wraps both arms around his neck. "Show me what you got, big guy."</p><p>Grinning, Cas carries him across the small, dimly lit living area and into the bedroom. Dean's head is all floaty, his nerves singing with anticipation. He fucking <em> loves </em>being picked up and carried by a big strong man. He wriggles happily in Cas' arms and lets out a delighted gasp when Cas tosses him onto the bed effortlessly.</p><p>"You're so fucking hot," he blurts, sitting up to watch Cas strip.</p><p>Cas smirks at him through the armhole of his shirt. "And <em> you </em>are absolutely delicious," he answers, letting the shirt fall to the floor.</p><p>Dean stares at the lean, muscled body in front of him. One side of Cas' torso and his entire left arm and shoulder are covered with tattoos. Most of them are in a language Dean doesn't recognize. Cas' other side is covered in scars, some new and pink, some old and faded to white.</p><p>"Guess you really have been hunting for a long time," Dean says, a little awed. "How old are you, anyway?"</p><p>"Why?" Castiel tilts his head. "Is there an age limit on the people you fuck?"</p><p>Dean snorts. "Not when they look like you."</p><p>Castiel's smirk turns downright predatory. He undoes his belt and takes his pants off slowly, eyes boring into Dean's the entire time. Then he's standing at the foot of the bed wearing nothing but tight black boxers, and Dean is so hard it fucking <em> hurts. </em></p><p>"You're overdressed," Castiel observes. </p><p>Dean grins at him, leans back, and folds his arms behind his head. "So do something about it," he challenges.</p><p>Cas moves so fast it's a blur. He's on Dean in less than a second, caging him with his arms and staring down at him with undisguised lust. "How attached are you to this shirt?" he purrs, nodding down at Dean's faded AC/DC tee.</p><p>Dean shrugs, his heart pounding in his ears. "I can always get another one."</p><p>Cas sits up and takes Dean's shirt collar in both hands. Dean expects him to rip it apart in one go, but instead Cas starts tearing it <em> slowly, </em> watching each inch of Dean's chest become visible. His hands brush against Dean's nipples, which instantly harden at the contact, and Dean doesn't even have time to feel embarrassed because Cas is already pinching and tweaking them between his fingers, making Dean gasp and buck his hips up.</p><p>Cas pauses, taking in the sight of Dean's heaving chest and half-torn shirt with a shit-eating grin on his face. "Sensitive, are we?" Without waiting for an answer, he dives in and starts biting Dean's nipples through the fabric.</p><p>Dean lets out a long, keening wail and slams his head back into the pillows. "Oh <em> fuck, </em> keep doing that," he gasps. "Jesus <em> Christ, </em> feels so good."</p><p>Cas growls, low and possessive, and continues giving Dean's nipples sharp tugs and hard licks and <em> holy shit </em> Dean might actually come from this alone. Heat zings down his chest and straight to his dick, his toes curl inside his boots, and he grabs a fistful of bedding in each hand, just for something to ground him.</p><p>"Fuck, oh <em> fuck </em> Cas, your fucking <em> mouth, </em> oh my God," he babbles, rolling his hips. "You're so good at that, so good, make me so hot." There's a damp spot forming in his jeans and he wants to take them off, but he also doesn't want Cas to stop, so he just keeps grinding up against Cas' hard cock, legs spread apart, getting more and more wet with each thrust.</p><p>"Dean," Cas breathes, and it's the sexiest way anyone's <em> ever </em> said his name. "My beautiful boy. You have no idea what you're doing to me."</p><p>"Why don't you show me?" Dean gasps, reaching up and tugging at the hem of Cas' boxers.</p><p>"Oh, I will." Cas shifts upward and kisses Dean again, long and deep, stubble rough as sandpaper. "But I want to see you first."</p><p>He grins and resumes ripping Dean's shirt until it's in two pieces and lying on the floor beside the bed. Then he sits back on his heels and stares at Dean's upper body, licking his lips. Dean tries to think of a quip to break the tension, but his brain is completely blank as he stares into those hypnotic blue eyes.</p><p>"Sinful," Cas murmurs, caressing Dean's ribs, making him shiver. "Absolutely sinful. Take off your jeans, sweet boy."</p><p>At this point Dean would jump off the fucking Chrysler building if Cas told him to. He quickly unzips and wriggles out of his jeans while Cas unlaces his boots and tosses them over his shoulder. Then he's down to just his underwear, and Cas' eyes rake over the rest of his body, an appreciative hum sounding low in his throat.</p><p>"Turn over for me, beautiful," he says hoarsely.</p><p>Dean does, groaning as his cock presses into the mattress. He feels Cas crawl over him, feels sharp teeth on the back of his neck and a hard, hot bulge against his ass. "Please," he whimpers, "please."</p><p>"Please what?" Cas growls.</p><p>Dean can't speak, can't find the words. Cas leans closer.</p><p>"Tell me," he whispers, breath hot against Dean's ear. "Tell me what you want and maybe I'll give it to you."</p><p>"I want you to spank my ass," Dean says in a rush. "Spank me until I'm red and stinging and I can't feel anything except your hand. Please," he remembers to add.</p><p>A brief pause, and then Cas lets out a hissing sigh. "Oh, my sweet, darling boy. We're going to have a marvelous time."</p>
<hr/><p>It's better than Castiel ever dreamed. Dean is so pliant and needy and eager to please that it's making Castiel's head swim. Never has he tasted anything so sweet, so sinfully good. He pulls off Dean's boxers slowly, savoring the gradual reveal of his slender hips and tight, perfect ass. When he's gotten the underwear off completely, he leans down and licks a long, hot stripe up Dean's crack, making him cry out in surprised pleasure. </p><p>"Cas," he moans, spreading his legs further apart, <em> "please." </em></p><p>"In a moment, beautiful." Castiel stands up and sheds his own boxers, then climbs back on the bed, one knee on either side of Dean's hips. "Safeword?"</p><p>"Don't have one," Dean mumbles into the bedspread.</p><p>"Well, make one up. I'm not beating your ass unless it's one hundred percent consensual."</p><p>"Impala," Dean grits out. His whole body is trembling with what Castiel can only assume is anticipation. "My safeword is Impala."</p><p>"Good boy." Castiel slaps one cheek lightly and is rewarded with a fresh burst of Dean's smell. He slaps the other, watching the faint red mark of his hand fade away into the supple flesh. Dean quivers and clenches his fists in the sheets. Castiel slaps him again, harder, and Dean moans.</p><p>"Such a gorgeous ass," Castiel murmurs, rubbing a hand over Dean's buttocks, soothing the sting away. "I can't wait to see it spanked raw."</p><p>"Do it," Dean pants, "do it. I need it, I need to be punished, <em> please." </em></p><p>Castiel is rock hard and leaking precome steadily, which is a bit surprising. The clean cut Catholic man he'd chosen as a vessel has served him well for many years, but he's never reacted so enthusiastically to sex before. Apparently good old Jimmy has a thing for beautiful young men, which Castiel finds utterly delightful. So much for old-fashioned family values.</p><p>He pushes his erection between Dean's cheeks, smearing precome over the small of his back, and spanks that perky ass over and over again, a little harder each time, all while sliding his length back and forth along Dean's increasingly wet crack. The pale flesh turns steadily pink, then darkens to a lovely deep red as Castiel rains down blows, enjoying the way Dean’s buttocks jiggle from the impact. He takes himself in hand and rubs the leaking head over Dean’s hot skin, then spanks him with the length of his cock, making Dean gasp and writhe and rut against the mattress. He can almost taste Dean's ecstasy in the air, the sharp mix of pleasure and pain like a burn on his tongue. It's heady and intoxicating and Castiel knows he shouldn't take more, knows he's already passed the limit of what he can safely get away with, but it tastes so good and Dean is so lovely and really, what's the harm in stealing a few more kisses? Dean's already going to be so blissed out by the end of this, he won't know the difference.</p><p>"Such a good boy," Castiel praises, caressing Dean's tingling skin. "You're taking your punishment so well. I think you deserve a reward." He leans down and smoothes Dean's sweat-damp hair back from his forehead. "What should it be, hm?”</p><p>"Want—" Dean chokes on the word. "Want you to fuck me. I want your big cock in me, wanna get fucked, please sir, please, I'll be good, just fuck me, please—"</p><p>"Shh." Castiel cups Dean's chin in his hand and tilts his face up. "Breathe, beautiful. Just breathe." Dean takes in a long, shuddering breath and exhales forcefully. His lips are bright red and swollen and Castiel kisses them, drinking in that wonderful, luscious energy, savoring it like rare wine. Dean hums and whines into his mouth, obviously restless and wanting more than just kisses, but Castiel tongue-fucks his mouth anyway, hard and deep, then pulls away, slow and sticky like caramel.</p><p>"Just look at this ass," Castiel purrs, slapping it sharply. Dean moans. "So fucking red. You're not going to be able to sit down for a <em> week </em> without thinking of me." He smacks him a few more times, making Dean wail and drum his feet against the bedspread. "Are you ready, my sweet? Is my good boy ready to get fucked?"</p><p>Dean nods frantically, bucking his hips up and down. Castiel suspects he's starting to go nonverbal at this point, and reminds himself to watch for signs of genuine distress. Dean is his good boy. Castiel won't let anything bad happen to him.</p><p>"Turn over, my lovely," he croons, and Dean obeys instantly. His cock is angry red and weeping, his balls are tight, and a gorgeous blush spreads all the way from his face to his sternum. His nipples are covered in bite marks and there's an absolutely blissful expression on his face. So trusting, so exposed and vulnerable.</p><p>Castiel feels an unexpected surge of protectiveness and impulsively bends down to give Dean a gentle, almost tender kiss. Dean hums happily and slings his arms around Castiel's neck, pulling him closer. Their cocks rub together in a delicious slide, and for a brief moment Castiel's vision clouds with white light. His stomach turns and he pulls away. Too close. Too intimate.</p><p>Dean stares up at him, eyes glazed, a faint line between his brows. Castiel gives him a reassuring grin. </p><p>"Such a pretty boy," he says, and Dean's face relaxes into a shy smile. "So pretty, so good for me. I'm going to open you up now, beautiful. Try to relax."</p><p>Dean nods and lets his legs fall open with a breathy sigh. Castiel lifts them up and rests Dean's ankles on his own broad shoulders, the better to access that tight little ass. He sucks his fingers and then presses one wet fingertip over Dean's hole. Dean quivers at the touch, takes a sharp, shallow breath, then relaxes around the intrusion.</p><p>"Very good," Castiel praises, pressing a kiss to Dean's calf. "Just relax. Open for me. That's it." He eases his finger inside bit by bit, marveling at how easily Dean's body yields to him. He fits all of one finger inside and swirls it around, watching Dean's mouth go slack.</p><p>"More?" he asks, and Dean nods silently, his eyelids fluttering closed. Castiel adds another finger, forcing himself to go slowly as he pushes past that tight ring of muscle. Dean tenses a little as the second finger goes further in, but once it slides home, he relaxes and bears down against the pressure.</p><p>Castiel starts to scissor his fingers, working that sweet ass open, his cock leaking steadily against his stomach. He pulls his fingers out and thrusts back in, and Dean lets out a startled yelp when the heel of Castiel's hand smacks against his sore cheeks.</p><p>"Yes, that hurts," Castiel murmurs. "But it feels good too, doesn't it?" </p><p>Dean nods. His hand strays towards his own weeping cock, but Castiel slaps it away. "None of that," he growls. "You'll come untouched or not at all."</p><p>The raw, wrecked sound Dean lets out in response nearly breaks Castiel's resolve. "Look at me, sweet boy," he orders, lightly pinching Dean's thigh. Dean opens those beautiful green eyes and gazes up at him. "What's your safeword?"</p><p>For a moment he isn't sure that Dean can answer, but then he says, in a surprisingly steady voice, "Impala, sir."</p><p>Relieved, Castiel rubs Dean's hip with his free hand. "Very good, my darling. Don't be afraid to use it if you need to. Understand?"</p><p>Dean nods, and Castiel goes back to fingering him. He fits three fingers in, then four, and thrusts them in and out of Dean's hole until he's letting out a nonstop stream of squeals and whines and shocked little gasps that go straight to Castiel's dick. Finally he eases his fingers out and Dean makes an unhappy sound, his asshole clenching on empty air.</p><p>"Just a moment, sweet boy," Castiel reassures him, rummaging in his nightstand. He always keeps lube and condoms at the ready, just in case he finds someone he wants to feed on more frequently, but that rarely happens anymore.</p><p>Castiel rolls on the condom, lubes himself up, and lies down on his back. "Now," he says with a grin, patting his thighs in invitation. “Be a good boy and ride my cock until you come."</p><p>Dean scrambles to obey, his cock bobbing almost comically as he straddles Castiel's hips. He looks absolutely <em> wrecked— </em> chest flushed, hair mussed, mouth and nipples kiss-bitten, a sheen of sweat coating his entire body. He grips Castiel's cock at the base, lines himself up, and slowly sinks down onto the shaft.</p><p>Castiel groans as Dean’s tight heat envelops his cock. <em> Bliss. Sheer bliss. </em> Dean laughs breathlessly and starts rolling his hips in small circles, hands splayed on his thighs, dick slapping against his stomach. He's sin incarnate and Castiel can't stop watching him.</p><p>"You look so good, pretty boy," he says. "So good with my big cock splitting you open. You like taking it up the ass, don't you?" </p><p>Dean whines and starts rocking faster, eyes closed, muscles flexing as he moves. He's biting his lip, looking down at himself, watching Castiel's cock slide in and out of his body. Castiel watches it too, every part of him wound tight like a clockspring, pleasure rising to a crescendo.</p><p>"That's it," he groans, "that's it, you're so good Dean, so good, come for me, beautiful boy—"</p><p>Dean sinks up and down once, twice, three times, then lets out a sharp, almost startled cry. His whole body seizes up and suddenly he's coming like a fucking fountain, spurting all over Castiel's stomach and chest, asshole clenching and throbbing around Castiel's cock. </p><p>"Ohhh," Castiel moans, "fuck Dean, you're so perfect, come for me, come for me, my sweet—" Then his own orgasm hits and he thrusts up into Dean with a howl of pleasure.</p><p>It seems to go on forever, wave after wave, and Castiel never wants it to end, but of course it does. At last Dean collapses on top of him, panting, and immediately buries his face in Castiel's neck.</p><p>"Thank you, sir," he whispers.</p><p>"You're welcome, sweet boy," Castiel murmurs back. "You were perfect. I'm very pleased with you."</p><p>Dean wriggles even closer, limbs winding around Castiel's body like an octopus, and lets out a long, contented sigh. Full to bursting, Castiel puts his arms around his beautiful boy and does something he never does. He sleeps.</p>
<hr/><p>Whoever invented mornings should be taken out back and shot, Dean thinks as a ray of bright sunshine stabs him in the eyeballs. He groans and smashes his face back into the pillow, but now that he's awake, it's harder to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of dried sweat and jizz clinging to his skin. He desperately needs a shower.</p><p>He pushes aside the thin, sweat-soaked sheets, sits up, and immediately wishes he hadn't because his entire ass feels like it's on <em> fire. </em> The night's events come crashing back and Dean groans inwardly, insides curling up with shame as he remembers how hard he'd begged for punishment, how he'd spread his legs and let Castiel fuck him like a needy, whiny little slut. God, he's pathetic. He needs to leave before Castiel wakes up and decides to make him eggs or some shit.</p><p>He sneaks a glance at the other side of the bed. Castiel's lying on his stomach, naked, scarred back rising and falling steadily with his breath. Fuck, he'd been so hot last night, ordering Dean around in that gravelly voice, pleasuring him with those huge, strong hands, calling him <em> sweet boy </em> and <em> darling </em> and <em> beautiful— </em></p><p>Dean tears his eyes away from Castiel's sleeping form. He crawls out of bed, wincing as the raw skin of his ass chafes against the scratchy sheets, gathers up his clothes, and slips away without a sound.</p>
<hr/><p>Dean decides to take a break from hunting for the next few weeks. He’s always been good at avoiding shit he doesn’t want to face, and Castiel definitely falls into that category. He makes Dean weaker, more vulnerable. It’s better if they never see each other again. Besides, that one night’s gonna fuel Dean’s spank bank for the next forty years at least. There's no reason to seek Cas out for a second round.</p><p>So he goes to class, does his homework, gets drunk at a couple parties, lather, rinse, repeat. He goes down to visit Dad and Sam one weekend and they do all the usual shit— fire up the grill, watch the game, talk about Sam's college applications, what's been going on with Bobby, Dean's plans after graduation. Everything except what really matters.</p><p>His dad shoots him a few sideways glances when Dean talks about school, and Dean knows he's trying to figure out what's not being said, but John Winchester is even better at avoiding shit than his eldest son, so he doesn't comment. He just hugs Dean hard when he leaves and mumbles something about being careful and "don't do anything I wouldn't do." Dean mumbles something equally vague back, and then he's boarding the train. Sometimes he wishes he could take Baby to school, but parking in L.A. is expensive and car thefts are commonplace, so she stays at home.</p><p>Dean thinks a lot during the three-hour train ride. He thinks about his dad's grey hair, the sadness in his eyes, the way he never talks about Mom anymore. He thinks about the sound of bones crunching, the taste of blood, tiny bodies burning on a pyre. He thinks about Cas' feral grin and fierce kisses, his strong hands and piercing eyes, the reverence in his voice as he took Dean apart piece by piece. <em> Beautiful, sweet boy. So perfect. </em></p><p>When the train pulls into L.A. at  a quarter to midnight, Dean's made up his mind. He needs to hunt, and he needs to find Cas. Maybe there's a way to do both.</p>
<hr/><p>The past few weeks have been dreadful. Castiel forces himself to go out and feed on less desirable souls, but they all taste dull, sour, or downright repulsive. He needs someone better, someone sweet. <em> Oh, who are you kidding, Castiel? You don't want someone, you want </em>Dean.</p><p>Yes. He does want Dean. Castiel has never felt so bereft, so unsatisfied. There's a physical ache inside his chest, a hunger that gnaws at him constantly. He wants his beautiful boy, but the beautiful boy doesn't want him back. </p><p>He hadn't expected to feel so disappointed when Dean had left the next morning. It's how Castiel's conquests usually go, so why should this one be any different? But when he rolled over and blindly reached for the warm body beside him, he felt only cold, empty space, followed by an immediate sense of <em> wrong, wrong, wrong. </em></p><p>He's currently crouched on the roof of a "massage parlor," which is an amusing euphemism for a place where old, unattractive men pay young, attractive women to pleasure them sexually. Normally this type of business is Castiel's equivalent of an all-you-can-eat buffet, but nobody smells even remotely tempting tonight. He hasn't eaten properly in days and he can feel his body weakening, but he can't bring himself to care. Existence on this planet seems rather pointless if it doesn't include Dean.</p><p>Sighing, Castiel spreads his wings and takes to the sky. He flies silently over the city, which is blanketed in a haze of smog and neon lights, sniffing the air every so often. He'll hunt for a couple more hours, and if his search happens to bring him closer to Dean's school, well, that's a happy coincidence.</p>
<hr/><p>This is bad. This is really, really bad. Dean just wanted to rustle up a monster or two tonight, see if he might cross paths with Cas, or at the very least get his attention. He did <em> not </em> expect to run into a trio of fucking <em> demons </em> near Manuel's cantina.</p><p>"Hey, pretty boy," one of them taunts. It's wearing an elderly Latina woman who's barely five feet tall, but Dean knows that size doesn't mean squat when it comes to demons. Sweet little Abuela could pick him up and throw him ten feet, no problem. The other two look like they might be from the club down the street— they're both wearing skinny jeans and V-neck shirts and one of them has streaks of gold glitter on his cheeks.</p><p>"What's the matter?" Glitter Face sneers. "Don't you wanna party? I bet you're great at getting down." He smirks, eyes traveling over Dean's body. "Or maybe <em> going </em> down."</p><p>"Sorry, buddy," Dean replies. "Black's not really my color." There's a fence at one end, at least eight feet high, and the demons are blocking the other end leading to the street. Yep, he is well and truly fucked.</p><p>"Kill him," Abuela says in a bored tone. She and the others start to close in, flanking Dean from all sides. Dean widens his stance and his hand tightens around the handle of his knife. If he's dying tonight, then he's gonna go out with a bang.</p><p>
  <em> Whoosh. </em>
</p><p>Something huge and winged hurtles past at lightning speed, so close that it ruffles Dean's hair. And suddenly there are only two demons standing in front of him, not three.</p><p>
  <em> What the fuck? </em>
</p><p>The demons look just as shocked as Dean feels. They look around in all directions, mouths opening and closing like goldfish. If the situation wasn't so dire, Dean might have laughed at their dumbfounded expressions.</p><p>Seconds later, there's a distant scream from the opposite end of the alley, followed by a horribly wet thud. All three of them whip around to see Demon #3 splattered on the pavement. He now bears a strong resemblance to that take-and-bake lasagna that Sam once dropped on the kitchen floor. Gross.</p><p>"What the fuck?" Glitter Face yells, just before there's another <em> whoosh </em>and he's promptly scooped up by whatever the hell is flying above them. </p><p>Dean stares up at the sky, but there's too much smog and cloud cover to see anything. He's so distracted that he forgets about the little old lady demon, who sees her opening and seizes it. She grabs Dean and slams him up against the brick wall, knocking the breath out of his lungs.</p><p>"What is it?" she snarls, her tiny claw-like hands wrapping around his throat. "What have you unleashed?"</p><p>"I have no fucking idea," Dean croaks, trying to pry her fingers away from his windpipe.</p><p>Another scream and horrible wet <em> splat </em> as Glitter Face's body hits pavement. Abuela tightens her grip.</p><p>"Make it stop," she hisses, "or I'll kill you right now."</p><p>
  <em> Whoosh. Thump. </em>
</p><p>"Let him go," a voice growls.</p><p>Abuela wheels around, releasing her chokehold, and Dean's eyes nearly pop out of his head when he sees who's standing in the alley.</p><p>
  <em> Castiel. </em>
</p><p>But he doesn't look like Castiel at all. His eyes aren't blue anymore, but fiery red. Two dark, tattered, batlike wings sprout from his back, and his tattoos are glowing as if there are hot coals beneath his skin. Dean can actually <em> feel </em> the electricity humming in the air as he advances on them, wings raised in an aggressive display.</p><p>"Leave this place," Cas orders. "Now. And never come back."</p><p>"You're an abomination," the demon hisses. "You should be rotting in Hell."</p><p>"I did my time," Cas growls. "A thousand years of it, in fact. So I think I'm entitled to a little peace and quiet. Now fuck off, or there will be consequences."</p><p>"Lucifer will hear of this," she warns.</p><p>"I don't give a rat's ass about Lucifer," Cas says. A misshapen silver blade suddenly appears in his hand, and quick as a flash, he stabs the demon in the chest. The old woman's eyes and mouth fill with red light, and he lets out a furious howl as she dies, her body hitting the ground like a sack of cement.</p><p>And just like that, it's over. Cas' eyes fade back to blue, his wings fade out of sight, and his skin stops glowing. For a long moment, he and Dean stare at one another. Everything is quiet except for the sound of their panting.</p><p>"Are you all right?" Cas asks. He looks thinner than the last time Dean saw him. His cheeks are hollow, there are dark circles under his eyes, and all traces of his wicked, sly humor seem to have disappeared.</p><p>"Yeah," Dean says hoarsely. "Thanks for the assist."</p><p>"You're welcome." Then, without another word, Cas turns away and starts limping down the alley.</p><p>"Hey!" Dean yells, fear and anger overtaking him in equal measure. "You don't get to just walk away, buddy!"</p><p>"Why not?" Cas throws back over his shoulder. "You did."</p><p>"Oh my God. <em> Seriously?" </em> Dean puts his knife away and storms after him. "You're seriously going to play the 'why didn't you call me?' card? We didn't even fucking <em> know </em> each other, dude. Did you really expect me to stick around for breakfast?"</p><p>Cas merely grunts and keeps moving. His gait is stiff and he's holding his arm close to his chest, and in spite of his anger, Dean can't help feeling a little worried. The guy looks like he's been to hell and back.</p><p>"Can you just stop for a second?" he says. "Please?"</p><p>Cas heaves an extremely gusty, melodramatic sigh and stops walking. "What?"</p><p>"What do you mean, what?" Dean glares back at him. "You just pulled a fucking Batman manuever back there and you don't expect me to have any questions?"</p><p>Cas folds his arms across his chest, and even though Dean is seriously pissed off, he can't take his eyes off those huge hands and firm, muscled arms. It feels like no time has passed since that night. Cas is still sexy as fuck and Dean's still a whiny, needy little shit.</p><p>"Very well," Cas says, his voice dripping with scorn. "What are your questions, Dean?"</p><p>Dean tears his gaze away from Cas' chest and makes himself look up into those stormy blue eyes. "Well," he says, "let's start with what the hell you are. Little Miss Sunshine back there called you an abomination. What kind of creature does a <em> demon </em> think is an abomination?"</p><p>"One that used to be an angel."</p><p>A beat passes. "An angel," Dean echoes blankly. "Angels aren't real."</p><p>"I assure you, they are." Cas takes out the strange, silver blade again and turns it over in his hands. "This is the type of weapon they use. It's the only thing I brought with me when I left Heaven. Obviously it's a bit banged up after spending a thousand years in Hell." He lets out a humorless laugh. "Just like its owner."</p><p>Dean feels a little awkward. Cas just saved him from getting ganked by demons, but apparently Cas is <em>also </em>some type of demon? How is Dean supposed to navigate this kind of ethical minefield? He's a soldier, not fucking Socrates.</p><p>"So if angels are real," he says after a pause, "does that mean God is too?"</p><p>Cas snorts. "Supposedly," he answers. "Nobody's seen him in millenia. For all we know, it could be a chihuahua sitting up there."</p><p>"Is that why you left?" Dean asks, and Cas nods slowly. He's still staring down at the half-melted blade as if it holds the answer to everything.</p><p>“God had a plan,” he says, “and I think it involved you. Or someone like you." His brows knit together as though he's trying to remember. "I didn’t believe in the plan. I wanted to forget everything, shed my old skin, be reborn. I wanted to be something other than a tool. So I made a deal with Lucifer. A thousand years of torture in Hell, and I would be reborn as an aggel, which is a demon of angelic origin. Then I would be free to live my life the way I wanted." He rolls his eyes. "But I’m still not really free. I just serve a different master now. Lucifer conveniently forgot to mention that little detail when we were making our deal.”</p><p>"What detail?" Dean asks, afraid to hear the answer.</p><p>"That I would need constant replenishment," Cas says. "In the form of souls. Or more specifically, the negative energy of souls."</p><p>"What the hell does that mean? You kill people?"</p><p>"No," Cas says. "I merely feed on their energy. Their lies, their fears, their pain. That's how I survive."</p><p>"So…" Dean swallows, an unpleasant realization sweeping over him. "That night, when we went back to your place…"</p><p>"I fed on you," Cas says bluntly. "Every time we kissed."</p><p>"And here I thought you were just being a romantic sap," Dean says, clenching his fists. "Is that why I felt so damn tired afterwards?"</p><p>"Yes," Cas answers. "I tried to limit myself. I only meant to take a little bit, but…" He licks his lips. "I’ve never tasted anything like you, Dean. You’re absolutely indescribable, and I couldn't resist. These past few weeks, when I had to feed on others, they tasted repulsive. You're the only one I want anymore." He sighs, sounding resigned. “I understand if you need to kill me. There's no possible way you can let me live, after what I did to you."</p><p>Dean has no answer to that. He just stares at Cas, a hundred thoughts rushing through his mind.</p><p>"It's probably for the best," Cas says dully. "To be perfectly honest, if I can't have you, life isn't really worth living anymore. Some people don't deserve to be saved.”</p><p>Dean hesitates for a long moment. This is an evil thing, he reminds himself. A monster. He kills monsters. But then he remembers the tender way Cas kissed him, the fierce, protective tone of his voice, the incredible rush of pain and pleasure Cas brought him that night. Cas made him feel things he's never felt before. He's never felt such release, never been the object of such devotion.</p><p>He's a little addicted to Cas, too.</p><p>"What are the other side effects?" he asks.</p><p>Cas blinks at him, confused. "What?"</p><p>"When you feed on people. What other side effects happen to them?"</p><p>Cas shakes his head. "Not much, really. As I said, I'm not feeding on their souls directly. Just the energy. If I drink a lot of it, people usually feel very tired and emotionally drained, like you described. But the effect is only temporary. And I usually don't take that much."</p><p>Dean takes a deep breath.</p><p>“I don’t believe in God's grand design either," he says. "I believe in what I see in front of me. And what I see is a guy who went out of his way to save me, when he didn't have to."</p><p>A pause. "Maybe I just did it so we could fuck again," Cas says slyly.</p><p>Dean grins. "Nah," he says. "I don't think it's just my soul you want, Cas. I think you like me, too. Just a little."</p><p>"Don't flatter yourself," Cas says, but he's already moving towards Dean, slow and sensuous, like a panther stalking its prey.</p><p>"Aw, c'mon." Dean smirks, even as his heartbeat quickens. "I'm adorable. Admit it."</p><p>"Hardly the word I would use," Cas murmurs, and then he's walking Dean backwards across the uneven ground, pressing him into the solid brick wall, staring at him with dark, hungry eyes.</p><p>"What word would you use?" Dean asks, running the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip, because he knows it's gonna make Cas crazy. Sure enough, Cas zeroes in on Dean's mouth, and his eyes turn a deep, glowing red. </p><p>"Irresistible," he whispers, and then they're kissing, hard and fierce, Cas nipping and biting and pinning Dean's wrists to the wall exactly like he did that first night. Dean moans and sucks Cas' tongue into his mouth, and just like before, he feels himself going weak in the knees.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p>"Careful," he gasps when Cas finally pulls away. "Don't get too greedy, big guy, or I won't be able to stand up for this next part."</p><p>"Dean," Cas breathes, nosing his way up Dean's neck. "My sweet boy. I would never hurt you. Please know that."</p><p>"I know." Dean runs a hand through Cas' thick, soft hair, closing his eyes as the sensations overwhelm him. "I trust you."</p><p>Cas nips the sensitive spot underneath his ear, making Dean gasp. "Come home with me," he whispers, low and hoarse.</p><p>Dean pretends to consider. "Fine," he says. "But only if you help me on my next hunt." He winks. "And give me another spanking."</p><p>Cas yanks him forward. The look of pure lust in his eyes sends hot shivers through Dean's body. "Deal," he says, and with a loud <em> snap, </em> those enormous, bat-like wings pop into existence, spreading out from Cas' shoulders like two ragged black sails.</p><p>Dean gulps. "You should know," he says faintly, "I'm afraid of heights."</p><p>Cas tilts his head, a familiar wicked grin spreading over his face. "I thought you liked Superman, Dean. Don't you want to be my Lois Lane?"</p><p>"I am <em> not </em>going to be your Lois Lane," Dean snaps, sliding his arms around Cas' neck. "And I don't like flying."</p><p>Cas' smile softens. "Well, you'll just have to hold on extra tight then, won't you?"</p><p>"Ass," Dean mutters, tightening his grip. "Make it quick, okay?"</p><p>Cas slides his own arms around Dean's waist. "Very well," he says, amused. "But once I get you home, sweet boy, I'm taking all the time in the world."</p><p>He crouches, spreads his wings, and takes to the air. Dean clings desperately to his shoulders, eyes squeezed shut, and tries not to puke.</p><p>Neither of them see Manuel, standing at the back door of his cantina and watching Cas' black, skeletal wings beat the air. He watches Cas and Dean rise swiftly into the sky, holding his rosary beads to his chest. He watches until they become nothing but a dark speck against the clouds. When the speck finally disappears, he makes the sign of the cross.</p><p>"Gracias por su protección, Santa Muerte," he whispers, and slips back inside.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Dubious Consent Tag: All sex and D/s play in this story is one hundred percent consensual. However, Castiel is a creature that must feed on human souls' energy in order to survive, so when he and Dean have sex for the first time, he feeds on Dean without his knowledge or consent.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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